


Hair of the Dog That Bit You

by Devereauxs_Disease



Series: Say Cheese! [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hungover Will, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mardi Gras, Smut/Crack, Valentine's Day, hannigram holidays, smack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do murder husbands do on the holidays? Find out! Set in the same universe as the Say Cheese stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ash Wednesday Hangover

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, I try to write something serious and these two are like "that's cute, but no." *Shrug*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-Mardi Gras / pre-Valentine’s Day tale filled with plenty of crack and just a smidgen of smut.

Hannibal is removing a quiche from the oven when he hears the shambling steps. Setting the food on the kitchen island to cool, he moves silently to the doorway to observe his love.

Will stumbles down the palatial marble staircase in his boxers. Curls wild, and one eye still squinting at the daylight flooding the house, he is concentrating very hard on walking, each step slow and uneven. Hannibal notes that his beloved is wearing one slipper, having either forgotten or given up hope of finding the other.

Noiselessly retreating into the warmth of the kitchen, Hannibal prepares a coffee in Will’s favorite mug. The white ceramic vessel, a gift from Hannibal on their second anniversary, is emblazoned with blood spatter and the words _Murder Husband 1_. Its twin sits by Hannibal’s newspaper. As Will enters the kitchen, Hannibal wordlessly offers the mug. Will latches onto the proffered drink like it’s a lifeline. Heedless of the heat, he takes a swallow. 

“Was it you or the whiskey that did this to me?” Will croaks from behind the mug.

“I am responsible only for the bite marks on your neck, and perhaps some sore muscles,” Hannibal whispers, leaning in to nip at Will’s ear. The empath makes an interested noise, before shifting and letting out a pained groan. Hannibal takes mercy on his mongoose and moves away. “Any damage done to your liver was self-inflicted.”

“I might have gotten carried away.” Three mighty gulps and Will hands his empty coffee cup to Hannibal, who refills it with a small smile.

“I don’t know, I found the whole thing rather charming. Until you started assaulting me with jewelry.”

The night before, Will slapped his fifth whiskey on the bookshelf and spent the better part of an hour dancing on Hannibal’s Biedermeier coffee table, yelling about a good Old Fashioned New Orleans celebration. The doctor’s protests of boot scuffs and improper coaster usage died when Will started rolling his hips in time to the blaring Zydeco music. Transfixed by the sight of his very own private dancer, Hannibal was caught by surprise when a string of cheap plastic beats whipped around his face.

“It’s Mardi Gras! You’re supposed to throw beads at sexy people. Then they flash you, that’s how it works! It’s not my fault you’re a prude.” Hannibal’s hand freezes over the kitchen bar, withholding the refilled mug. “Oh come on, you’re a sexy prude!”

“As much as I enjoyed your homespun take on the holiday, the next time you want to celebrate Mardi Gras, we could go to Carnival.” Hannibal sniffs, handing Will the coffee. He picks up the quiche and heads into the dining room, where the table is already set. Will notes with a smirk that his cannibal had artfully draped the plastic beads between the fresh blooms of the centerpiece.

“You just want to buy us fancy masks and go swanning around the city in tuxedos. Pass.” Will flops in his chair and watches as Hannibal serves the quiche.

“Better than being pelted with plastic beads by a drunk wanting me to, what were you yelling? Oh yes, _shake what my momma gave me_.” 

“I’m sorry you were offended, my love.” Will says around a mouthful of quiche. “It’s hard to remember what a sensitive little buttercup you are sometimes. Remind me, who’s in this quiche?”

“The man who struck my car last Saturday.”

“Well, I’m glad the beads only hit your face and not the BMW, it might have been me on the plate.” Will pauses and brings a hand to his neck. “Actually, judging from my neck, you did get a little hungry last night.”

“Incorrigible.” Hannibal says fondly, lofting a bite of the quiche to his mouth. “If that’s your idea of a proper Mardi Gras celebration, I shudder to think what you’ll deem an appropriate Valentine’s Day gift.”

“I thought I’d just tie a red ribbon around my dick and be done with it,” Will raises an eyebrow. Hannibal’s mouth twitches and Will takes a triumphant sip of coffee.

“Ah,” says Hannibal casually. “We will be getting each other the same thing this year.”

Will sputters coffee across the table, which Hannibal dodges with the ease of someone who had been expecting the reaction.

“There’s no need of histrionics, Will. Just let me know what shade of red you’re planning on so that we don’t clash.”

Hannibal is already pouring Will a fresh cup of coffee, looking far too satisfied with himself for Will’s liking.

“Change in plan, I’m getting you a gag for Valentine’s Day.” Will wipes at his nose, idly contemplating whether snorting hot coffee would damage his sinuses. When he meets Hannibal’s eyes, shining with amusement, Will realizes what he’s said.

“That sounds like a most interesting gift, Will. Were you planning on buying one? Or do you already have an object you wish to put in my mouth?” Hannibal is using his psychiatrist voice to mask his mirth. Will’s face burns as he watches Hannibal stir some fresh cream into the mug before lasciviously licking the spoon. Will’s tongue feels thick in his mouth as he reaches for the coffee.

“You should give up innuendo for Lent.” Will mutters into the coffee. He keeps his eyes down and pretends the heat in his cheeks is a reaction to the steaming beverage. He stabs at his quiche, petulantly refusing to eat the last bites.

“Fair enough. I shall.” Hannibal says with a small nod. He takes one final bite of quiche, carefully wiping his mouth before he speaks again. “I was going to spend the next 20 minutes teasing you back to our bed, but in light of my concession to the Holy Father, I’ll be forthright: Will, you have 60 seconds to finish your coffee and get back to bed. Your compliance will determine whether I spend the next hour with my mouth on your cock or teasing you with fleeting touches while you’re tied to the bed.”

Will drops his fork.

“Was that innuendo-free enough to please our lord Jesus?” Hannibal looks genuinely curious. Will blinks. Hannibal’s lips curl softly. “Forty-five seconds.”

The scrape from Will’s chair against the ancient hardwood floor echoes throughout the house. As Will scrambles up the steps, a flood of arousal making his hungover limbs clumsy, he can hear Hannibal slowly walking behind him.

“Fifteen seconds.”

Will wonders if he’ll survive the next 40 days.


	2. Valentine's Day Massacre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mwuahna wanted to see the ribbon mentioned in the previous chapter. This is totally her fault. *runs away*

“Just once, I’d like to have an evening out that doesn’t end in arterial spray.” Will’s curls hang limp over his forehead, thick drops of blood pooling and dripping onto his cheeks. He lifts the latch to their back yard fence, peeling himself out of his gore-soaked flannel as he walks. 

“In my defense, I only severed his carotid after you stabbed him,” Annoyingly, Hannibal is nearly untouched by the messy death of the unfortunate man who tried to mug them while they groped in an alley. A single drop on the shoulder of his crisp white shirt is the only evidence that Hannibal Lecter is even capable of getting dirty.

“If we had fucked in the car, like I wanted to, I wouldn’t have to burn all of my clothes right now.” Will slid out of his pants. “But no, my husband can’t possibly walk 20 feet to a nice warm car when there’s a perfectly serviceable concrete wall in a back alley next to the restaurant!”

“You seemed most enthusiastic about my suggestion when I was on my knees. Really, Will, how could I have predicted that an assailant would interrupt our coupling? Would you prefer that I had allowed him to live?”

“It’s not that you killed him, it’s how you killed him. Did I look like I needed a face full of blood tonight? This was my favorite shirt!”

“If you know a way to slit a throat without arterial spray, I wish you would tell me, William. It would save me a fortune in plastic suits.” Hannibal snapped. “As to your clothes, I’ll happily give you money to replace the whole ensemble as soon as I can find change for a $10.”

“You’re an insufferable snob, you know that?” Will bristles. “Now, strip so I can get rid of the evidence, go to bed and forget this evening ever happened.” Hannibal looks wounded and Will immediately feels a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry that my actions have ruined our Valentine’s Day, Will.” His voice is soft. Will sighs and runs a hand over Hannibal’s cheek, leaving a red smudge.

“It’s not ruined, it’s just messy.” Will isn’t sure if he’s talking about the date or the relationship. “Dinner was amazing, and I’m sure whatever you make out of the dipshit in the trunk will be delicious too.”

Will offers Hannibal a quick kiss, before ridding himself of his boxers gathering his bloody clothes.

“I do have another gift for you, Will.” Something in Hannibal’s tone made Will’s ears perk up.

“Hannibal, if it’s that asshole’s heart, just stick it in the fridge, because I am not in the mood.” Will shoves his sodden clothes in Hannibal’s ridiculous brick pizza oven, which functioned as a burn barrel when Hannibal wasn’t busy doing terrible things like putting figs and endives on pizza. Will silently laments the loss of his favorite flannel shirt as he strikes a match and stokes the fire.

“It is an organ, but I don’t believe putting it in the fridge is an option.” Naked and covered in blood, Will shivered as he wind picked up.

“What? No, never mind. Just hand me your damn clothes so we can go inside.” He reaches behind him, eyes trained on the fire. He feels Hannibal press a scrap of soft smooth material land in his hand. Will glances at his palm.

The ribbon looks almost black in the moonlight, Will brings his hand toward the firelight, noting the fine satin strands are a deep crimson. Hannibal shifts closer. Will’s eyes follow the ribbon, traveling from his hand to Hannibal’s groin. There, the satin wraps around the cannibal’s half-hard cock, forming a ridiculously elaborate bow with six soft arching loops perfectly framing the turgid flesh.

“We did agree upon this gift, did we not?”

Of course Hannibal knows how to tie an immaculate cock bow. His dick looks like it’s been scrubbed and prepped for Sunday school. Will bites his lip, knowing in his soul that laughing at his husband’s festooned penis will not end well.

“Was this in your pants all evening?”

“Of course.” Hannibal says lips quirking into a small smile. “So was the ribbon.”

Will is still staring.

“Wait. How is it so fluffy and perfect?” Hannibal opens his mouth and Will holds up a hand. “Remember Dr. Lecter, you’re innuendo-free until the end of March. The baby Jesus is watching.”

Hannibal’s eyes twitch heavenward, it’s as close as the cannibal gets to an eye roll. “I took a moment to see to the loops after I disrobed.”

“So, while I’m here, burning evidence of a murder and asking for your assistance, you’re busy primping your cock ribbon?” Will gropes for Hannibal’s clothes and tosses them into the maw of the oven. The shadows of the fire stretch the lines of Will’s mouth into a jack-O-lantern grin.

“Presentation is important,” Hannibal sniffs. His mouth is already forming a haughty line and Will doesn’t like the direction the evening is going. Experimentally, he tugs at the end of the ribbon. Hannibal’s sharp intake of breath is his reward.

“I’ve literally got your dick on a leash,” Will muses. He tugs at the end once more before raising an eyebrow. “This may be the best present you’ve ever given me.”

Hannibal smiles and moves toward Will, eyes dark, tongue tracing his lips. Will yanks on the ribbon with solid force.

“Bad cannibal! Heel!”

Hannibal’s mouth drops slightly, eyes wide. Will can’t stop the giggles as he runs in the house, Hannibal hot on his heels, ribbon fluttering in the wind.


	3. Kiss Me, I'm Lithuanian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you need some crack on your St. Patrick’s Day? Well, here you go...this is what happens when Hannibal goes out without his Graham Cracker on St. Patrick’s Day. A story in 9 text windows:

_Hannibal wants to absorb some of the culture in Boston on their busiest day of the year. Will would rather stay in. Big mistake, Will._  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Here Comes Peter Cottontail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibunny - that's all you need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwuahna photoshopped the eggs for me, because she is the best.

       Will wasn’t wholly surprised to find a pastel egg on their front steps when he returned from his run. He knew Hannibal had come home from the market with several dozen eggs and figured his favorite cannibal had an elaborate Easter dish in mind. The egg in question was light blue and featured a delicately painted mongoose. For the millionth time, Will questioned when Hannibal found the time to kill people, butcher them, cook 5-star people cuisine, clean the house, shop for clothes, and paint elaborate eggs.

         Picking up the offering, Will opened the door and found a trail of brightly colored eggs leading into the kitchen. Each egg was a different portrait: Their dogs surrounding St. Christopher, Freddie Lounds holding out an apple, Alana cuddling a lamb as the Virgin Mary, and oddest of all, Jack Crawford as the Baby Jesus. Will made a note to ask about that one when he found Hannibal. On the kitchen island, he found an assortment of palm fronds which were folded into shapes definitely not approved by the Catholic Church.

         This raised several questions for Will: Had Hannibal gone to Palm Sunday services? Had anyone seen him? Where had he learned dick origami?

         Will decided that he’d get his answers soon enough. Stuffing the biggest frond phallus into his back pocket, he walked to the backyard to check on their dogs. Boomer was leading the pack in an Easter feast, that Hannibal had clearly hand prepared for them, none bothered to look up from their bounty to greet Will. Once he was sure the pack would be alright for a few hours, Will picked up the egg trail, now featuring them in increasingly suggestive positions, which unsurprisingly led to their bedroom.

         The last egg was balanced on the doorknob to their room. It was bright red with a delicate black stag painted on the shell. Will smiled as he carefully picked up the egg and threw open the door.

         “Happy Easter, Will.”

         Will pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. This was somehow worse than the cock ribbon. At least with that there was a dick to look at. This was just plain silly.

         Hannibal stood in the middle of the room wearing Will’s favorite black robe and a pair of white furry bunny ears. The ears perched on his head at a jaunty angle, one ear reaching up, the other carefully folded. Will wondered how long Hannibal had spent in the mirror adjusting the bend of the left ear until it looked inviting. Was there such a thing as come hither ears?  

         “Could you take that getup off, please?” Will tried to keep the laughter from his voice.

         “Certainly.” With deft fingers, Hannibal removed robe in one seemingly fluid movement. He stood, naked and hard, in front of the bed. He cocked a hip, and somehow he managed to look sultry, in spite of the large furry ears.

         “You know you look ridiculous, right?”

         “You’re being unfair, you haven’t even seen my tail.”

         Will made a choking noise, the air suddenly thicker than he remembered. Was he actually getting hard over this? A quick check of his running shorts confirmed that his cock had definitely signed off on Hannibunny.

Will huffed out a laugh. In the years since the fall, Hannibal had helped Will with many self-discoveries: Will found out that in spite of his twitchy nature, his hands were rock steady when in a body cavity. He could now remove kidneys and lungs without any prompting from Hannibal. Will was thrilled to learn that he was a prodigy at blow jobs, though admittedly Hannibal had been more excited about that revelation. And now, Hannibal had helped Will discover that he was apparently a low-grade furry.

         Will shrugged. _Why the fuck not?_

         Will moved to Hannibal and took him in a hard kiss. As he sucked on the doctor’s tongue, Will moved his hand down to grope. Before he hit the supple curve of his favorite ass, Will’s fingers carded into something fluffy. He laughed against Hannibal’s mouth, pulling back to seriously assess the man he loved, the man who had apparently affixed a cotton tail right above his ass.

         “Presentation is important.” Hannibal’s face was stoic, but he couldn’t quite keep the twinkle out of his eyes.

         “You’re fucking nuts, you know that right?” Will couldn’t stop bopping the tail, even as his other hand slid down Hannibal’s stomach.

         “I know. It’s been certified by the District Court of Maryland.” Hannibal nodded. “Dr. Chilton was their expert witness.”

         “I heard he was on fire that day,” Will confirmed.

Both men collapsed on the bed laughing. Will could never get enough of Hannibal’s gleeful laugh and chased the noise down Hannibal’s throat with his tongue. Focused on licking broad swaths around Hannibal’s Adams apple, Will almost missed a small movement on the periphery of his vision. He caught Hannibal’s hand as it reached for the ears.

“Oh no you don’t. Leave those on.”

Hannibal’s answering smile was delighted.

         “Why Will, do you want us to fuck like bunnies?”

         “Stop while you’re ahead, Dr. Lecter, or that tail is going to become a gag. I’d hate for you to choke on your own tail.”

         Hannibal was working on Will’s shorts, shimmying them down his hips as he pressed nipping kisses into the exposed flesh. The ears trailed after, making Will’s skin tingle.

         “That would be apt, would it not?” Hannibal addressed Will’s dick, warm breath brushing over it. The bunny ears were tickling his belly and suddenly Will was acutely aware at just how filthy this holy day had become.

         “I..yeah…what?” Words were hard and so was Will, but he was pretty sure Hannibal had tried to tell him something.

         “Today is the day for resurrections.” Hannibal winked and sucked a kiss onto Will’s hip.

 


	5. April Foolishness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys send gifts to their favorite April Fools.

“Alright people, you know why I’ve called you here today.” Jack Crawford blustered into the Quantico conference room and slammed some files onto the table. Price and Zeller trailed behind him with a few reports in their hands. The room smelled of stale coffee and last night’s takeout, it suited Crawford’s wrinkled shirt and strained expression.

“Because you’ve failed yet again to catch the Murder Husbands? What’s this make? Five years in a row?” Freddie drummed her nails on the table, earning a scowl from Alana, who sat across the table with Margot.

“LOUNDS! I will have you removed from this building.”

“Hannibal sent me a tongue, Jack. You want me to report that the FBI no longer investigates Hannibal Lecter’s gift baskets if they don’t like the recipients?”

Jack stared at her hard, trying to figure out the best way to yell her out of the room. He raised a hand.

“One more word, Lounds.”

Freddie opened her mouth into a little “o” and pretended to quake in her seat. She heard a hissing sound and looked to her left, where Frederick Chilton, or what was left of him, seemed to be trying to derisively snort.

“Anyway, we are all here because yet again Hannibal and Will have deemed us worthy recipients of gifts.”

A giggle rang out in the room, drawing Jack’s attention away from his notes. Bedelia du Maurier held up a hand in apology, opened her purse, removed a water bottle and began guzzling.

“I’m terribly sorry, Agent Crawford. I merely find the timing amusing, April first. We’re their April Fools. Yet again.” She finished the contents of bottle, reached in her purse, and pulled out another water bottle. Freddie raised an eyebrow, Bedelia raised the bottle in a mock toast.

“I assure you, doctor,” Jack tried to catch Bedelia’s attention. “The FBI does not find this funny, and we are very close to finding them in South America.”

Freddie snorted.

“What is it, Lounds?”

“Not a thing, I’m sure they’re terrified. What did Hannibal send you? A map?”

“Actually, it was a beautiful sketch of him and Will sunbathing nude on a boat.” Jimmy said. He sorted through the files and produced a picture of the sketch, handing it to Freddie, who dissolved into a fit of giggles before scribbling in her notebook. “You lose some of the detail in the picture, but the shading is quite extraordinary.”

“I like the one from last year better, less schlong, more romance.” Zeller offered, leaning over Freddie’s shoulder to look at the sketch. She felt the tech give her curls a subtle tug.

“PRICE! ZELLER! OUT.” Jack snatched the photo from Freddie’s fingers and flung it at the duo. Jimmy scurried for the door, looking mildly wounded. Zeller paused at the doorjamb to catch Freddie’s eye and wink. 

“Now that we’re alone,” Jack continued, rubbing his temple. “I’d like to review if anyone saw or heard anything the day Hannibal delivered the items. Even the smallest detail could help us.”

“I rarely leave the house. Hannibal must have broken in while I was on my way to the liquor store,” offered Bedelia. “That would be between one and three.”

“Which day, Bedelia?” Jack tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

“Every day.” Bedelia looked confused, and took another long draw on her water bottle.

Jack sighed.

“Jack, we need assurances. This is the third time we’ve moved and he keeps finding us.” Alana looked strained. Margot looked at her phone. “Hannibal violated my private space! He promised to kill me, my son, and my wife.”

“Well, the latest note says just you.” Margot offered, eyes still on her phone.

Freddie cackled. Next to her, Dr. Du Maurier began to chuckle before taking another long pull from her water bottle.

“He broke into our home. He defiled our bed and our son’s room!”

“He made our bed,” Margot corrected. “Better than any of the maids have. Those corners were immaculate and the new linens are beautiful. Plus, Alexander loves the dog books Will sent. The only troubling thing was the note, which was very sweet until Hannibal mentioned the recipe he picked for you.”

“Honestly, Margot?” It was Alana’s turn to sigh. Margot shrugged and went back to her phone.

“What was the recipe?” Freddie asked, pen poised over her notebook.

“ANYWAY” Jack interjected. “We know that Ms. Lounds was sent a tongue, sadly not her own, but the implication seems clear.”

Freddie rolled her eyes.

“Dr. and Mrs. Bloom experienced a break in at their compound, Dr. Chilton I believe you got a gallon of homemade Aloe balm, and Dr. Du Maurier, you received the Louboutin shoes.”

“Shoe.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just the right shoe. Hannibal knew I didn’t need the left.” The doctor’s smile was big and loose as she produced a third water bottle from her purse.

“Why do you think we keep receiving presents? Haven’t we all suffered enough?” Freddie asked.

“ _Ooo on’t air._ ”

Freddie was pretty sure Chilton was speaking to her, but it was hard to tell.

“Um, what?”

“ _Ooo on’t air. Ooo jus want to poffit._ ” Was he really accusing her of profiting off death and serial killers? Oh, that was rich.

“I’ve read your book on the subject, Dr. Chilton. You know, the one that didn’t sell as well as mine? And I must say you spend a good number of pages on Hannibal’s dick. Did you research that yourself or just ask Alana?”

Freddie ignored Alana’s huff and looked at Frederick. Chilton’s eyes widened and he growled out a garbled sentence about _Annibal_ and _exual eviance_. Freddie got the gist.

“What bothers you more? The fact that he’s killing people or the fact that he picked the prettier twink for his murder husband?”

“Ugh, I’ve been there. Lose the man, lose the leg,” Bedelia was slurring slightly.

A raw red hand clenched around Freddie’s arm. She jerked back in haste.

“Look, Extra Tasty Crispy, touch me again and you can add ‘hand’ to your list of missing body parts.”

“ _Isch._ ” Freddie was reasonably certain Chilton would be snarling, if he still had lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“ _ISCH!_ ”

“One more time?”

“Jesus Freddie, leave him alone!” Margot looked up from her phone, deep lines in her face.

“You’re right, my apologies. Here, Crispy, want to borrow my lip balm?”

A _thunk_ drew everyone’s attention to the head of the table, where Jack Crawford was banging his head.

* * *

**To:** canismajor@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** April Fools

Dear Curly Sue,

You’ll be thrilled to know that your annual gathering of the April Fools was as filled with vitriol, misinformation, and stupidity as usual.  
Please thank Hannibal for the Hermes scarf and the tongue. The scarf I’m wearing now. He was right, it really is a staple piece and it looks great dressed up or dressed down. The tongue was a little gross, but I admit, it’s worth it for my annual ticket to the idiots’ ball.

Jack gave his usual speech about stopping you. Apparently he’s hot on your heels. Don’t worry, a little birdy named Zeller told me that Jack is still looking in Argentina. Zeller thinks we’re in love, isn’t that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard? Well, “not tonight darling, I’m still digesting the neighbors” is probably the saddest thing you’ve ever heard, but different strokes, as they say.

Anyway, Alana was very severe. Girlfriend needs a better shade of lipstick. Maybe put Hannibal on that for next year? Actually, tell Dr. Toothy I double dog dare him to apply it himself. She had her panties in quite the wad about Hannibal “violating her sacred space”. I assume she meant her room and not her other sacred space, although he got in there too, if memory serves. Are you the jealous type, Curly?

Margot looks tired, I would too living with that yapping film noir wannabe, but Bloom has to be better than the stabby Verger boy, right?

As for Chilton, you two should be paying me to look at him. My god, I came home and moisturized like 8 times. Shudders, Curly Sue, just…shudders. He’s still obsessed with your husband. He told me by promoting the sexual nature of your relationship, I’m just continuing to encourage Hannibal’s perversions. Frankly, I think he’s a little butthurt that Hannibal didn’t take a run at him. Not much of a chance now, huh? Unless Hannibal gets all hot and bothered at the thought of a man who looks like a candle that’s been burned one too many times. That’s probably too sick even for him.

Speaking of Hannibal’s rejected lovers, Dr. Du Maurier was looking hot. Did Hannibal send her a Hermes scarf as well, or does she buy her own? I have to know where she shops. She seemed amused by her gift, although she seemed amused by everything. I’m about 99% sure the bottles of water she was chugging were vodka.

Tell Toothy I’ll Skype him tomorrow with more details about the Hungibal spread I want to do in June. Did he get the swimsuit I sent him? Do you think it’s tight enough or should we go full banana hammock? God, I wish I could do a reader poll about these things.

~Freddie

* * *

Will closed the laptop and noticed Hannibal standing in the doorway, apron wrapped around his hips.

“Your girlfriend just emailed me. She says you’d be thrilled with how Jack’s little pity party went.”

Hannibal smiled brightly.

“Would I? Did Freddie like her gift?”

“She loved the scarf. Not so much the tongue. Anyway, Jack was screaming and pounding the table, saying he could find us in Argentina.”

“Poor Uncle Jack, always a day late and a dollar short.”

“The red devil also reported that Alana was in a snit. That’s a shame, I thought those books would be a hit with Alexander, from his favorite uncles.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your choice in books, darling. Her little tantrum was most likely due to my leaving a card for a divorce attorney next to Margot’s phone.”

Will snorted.

“What? We didn’t discuss that.”

“It was a last minute decision on my part. Margot looked so worn when I was doing reconnaissance before depositing the gift. She never technically fired me as her mental health advisor, so I thought I would offer some advice. I’m still quite fond of her.”

“You’re all heart.”

“Did Bedelia like her shoe?”

“I think Bedelia was too drunk to care. What did you do with the other shoe?”

“I gave it to Boomer. He was ecstatic.”

“You gave a $900 shoe to the goddamn dog?” Will moved to Hannibal and thumped him on the chest. Hannibal wrapped his arms around his empath and kissed his shoulder.

“The pair was $900, so technically Boomer’s treat was just $450, plus shipping and handling. Worth every penny to keep him away from my shoe closet.”

“I never want to hear about what I spend on dog food again.” Will groused, but stretched his neck to allow Hannibal’s roving lips better access.

“Of course not, darling boy.” Hannibal released Will with one final kiss. “But I must get back to the kitchen if we or the beasts are expecting to eat tonight.”

“Oh, also? Freddie thinks Chilton has a crush on you.” Hannibal paused, touching his lips softly as his eyes grew misty. Will scrunched his brow at the expression, which was usually reserved for afterglow, a particularly moving aria, or an uncomfortable antique chair that cost roughly the same amount as Will’s first car.

“I never realized he took our night together so seriously. His devotion is rather touching.” Hannibal smiled faintly and left the room. Will stood stunned by the desk, the words ‘night together’ ringing in his ears. Suddenly, Will felt the urge to take a shower. 

In acid.

“EXCUSE ME? Our night together? Hannibal? HANNIBAL! Get the fuck back here!” He ran for the kitchen, but found it empty. A pair of hands grabbed him from behind and yanked him into a solid chest.

“April Fools.” Hannibal whispered by Will’s ear, before throwing the laughing empath over his shoulder and heading for the bedroom.


	6. Happy Father's Day, Will!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal wants to celebrate Father's Day. Will wants to get some damn sleep.

So, this chapter references the sorority girls found in the St. Patrick's day chapter (Chapter 3: Kiss Me, I'm Lithuanian), you may want to read that first. Or just enjoy this bit of total lunacy on its own:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
